The True Mary Sue
by PrincessEilonwy
Summary: Who is the mysterious American girl? Why is she really at Hogwarts? And when the heck will she stop following Harry around?
1. The Sorting

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, but oh how I wish I did! bats eyelashes I think it's about the most wonderful book series ever written.

A/N: Welcome to my first Mary Sue spoof. I'll admit that I started a Mary Sue myself once, but it was for another series and once I realized what I was doing I stopped writing it. For those who write them, I know there are probably many good ones out there, so don't be offended!

The Sorting

After the long trip to Hogwarts, Harry, Hermione, and Ron were more than ready for the start-of-term feast, but first they had to endure the Sorting Ceremony. As "Zimbel, Rupert" joined Ravenclaw, Ron sighed in relief. "Finally done!" he muttered to Hermione, who looked reprovingly at him.

But they weren't done. Much to their surprise, McGonagall now beckoned forward a girl they hadn't noticed earlier. She looked a little closer to their age.

"This is one of our rare transfers, Peg Topper," McGonagall announced. "She has just moved from America and will be joining our sixth-year class." Harry looked up with renewed interest, then turned away, hiding a yawn as the girl put on the Sorting Hat.

Peg watched Harry from the stool. He was now staring dreamily at Cho Chang, over at the Ravenclaw table. _He thinks he loves her now,_ she thought. _But I'll show him I'm the perfect match for him. I'll change him..._

The Sorting Hat heard all of this and was sore afraid for Harry's sake. **You're a pretty sick kid, you know that? Hmm...unhealthy amounts of ambition...tut, tut. You know where excessive ambition gets you...**

_Gryffindor?_

**Guess again, kid.** "SLYTHERIN!" the Sorting Hat screamed loudly. The Slytherin table applauded loudly and Peg went to join it numbly. _This can't be happening! I have to get into Gryffindor so I can impress Harry with my charm and beauty. How can I get his attention when I'm in Slytherin?_

The pale-blond boy across the table from her smiled, a rather cold look. "I'm Draco Malfoy," he drawled. "Glad you could join us. This is the best house of the lot, you know."

Peg smiled and nodded absentmindedly. So this was Draco Malfoy, Harry's worst enemy. Of course she hated him as much as Harry did. But he was kind of hot...

A/N: So another halfway stupid but slightly amusing story begins. I figure the mistake most Mary Sues make is assuming they'll get into Gryffindor right off the bat. If they only want to get in to impress Harry, I don't think that's going to cut it with the Sorting Hat. Personally, I'd rather be in Ravenclaw anyway...but enough of that. Coming as Soon as I Can Possibly Write Any Sort of Intelligible Prose: Chapter Two.


	2. Wakin' Up Is Hard to Do

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling can have the rest of her universe, but I WANT HARRY POTTER! Embarrassed cringe Sorry, already getting into Mary Sue Mode to write the chapter in the proper spirit. I don't begrudge Rowling her awesome books...very often. Okay, so I lie awake at night plotting ways to steal her copyright. What's it to you?

A/N: Hi, finally a second chapter. Updates will probably be a little slow since I'm working on about five stories at once and I write as ideas strike me. However, I don't want to disappoint my devoted fans insert sarcastic coughs here so I'll try to write as often as possible. Meanwhile, feel free to read my other stories and review! Gooood reviews, please. You are getting sleepy...your eyelids are getting heavy...when I count to three you will read this story, write a favorable review, and go read and review every single last one of my other ones. ONE...TWO...THREE.

Wakin' Up Is Hard to Do

The next morning, Peg woke up and didn't remember where she was for a second. Once she did, she hoped fervently that the disastrous events of yesterday evening had been only a dream brought on by excitement at the prospect of seeing her dear Harrykins once more.

They weren't. Instead of the red and gold she'd anticipated, Peg's blurry vision was largely comprised of green and silver hangings. Peg groaned softly and turned over. Maybe she could just go back to sleep and no one in her dorm would care...

Alas, no such luck. "Get up, Topper!" someone shrieked in her ear. Even though Peg had only known her for one day, there was no mistaking Pansy Parkinson's distinctive blend of contempt and sheer shrill idiocy. Blearily, she opened her eyes once more, wondering if they served coffee with breakfast at Hogwarts. She sure hoped so, because otherwise she didn't see how she'd survive being with Slytherins all day.

"They let you get up at noon in America or something? Well, let me tell you that's not the way it works around here," Pansy sneered, turning back to the mirror where she was applying her Special Impress Draco Malfoy Makeup. Reluctantly, Peg stumbled out of bed and felt a wave of fresh despair roll over her as she remembered one of the things that went with going to Hogwarts—the Official Hogwarts Dorky Robe Ensemble. How could she possibly attract Harry's attention in something that wasn't form-fitting?

Resigning herself to the horrors of wearing a school uniform, Peg grabbed a set of clothes from her trunk and set out in search of a shower, ignoring Pansy's screeches not to be late for breakfast. On her way through the common room, she bumped into a wall that turned out to be Goyle. "Sorry," she muttered, unceremoniously shoving her way past him and storming out of the dungeon in high dudgeon.

About five minutes later, Peg stopped storming when she realized she had absolutely no idea where she was going. After all, all dungeons do kind of look alike, especially at seven o'clock in the morning. "Oh, great," she groaned, stopping in the middle of the hallway and looking around in confusion.

Should she keep exploring and hope to get lucky or swallow her pride and ask directions from someone? The sensible answer to this question was obvious. Of course she couldn't ask directions from Slytherins! What would Harry think of her if he knew she had been driven by circumstances to seek aid from his sworn enemies?

Peg knew she would never stoop to doing such a thing, especially when she put it to herself in those terms. Having made up her mind, there was only one thing to do. Wishing she had her fuzzy bunny slippers to protect her delicate, feminine feet from the cold stone floor, Peg wearily trudged down the corridor, inwardly ruing the stray thought that had landed her in the house for evil people.

Now if she was in Gryffindor...well, first of all, she'd probably have passed Harry on her way to the showers...and maybe stopped for a while to talk...or flirt...Peg heaved a deep sigh of nostalgia for the things that could have been. But that evil Sorting Hat had probably ruined her chances with Harry forever. Pouting slightly with indignation and shame, Peg shuffled toward yet another nondescript stone archway.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Peg jumped roughly three miles as a tall, batlike shape swooped around the corner and confronted her sternly. Professor Severus Snape, the bane of all sane people's existence, stared down at her with cold, glittering eyes.

Peg quailed. "Oh, uh, good morning, Professor Snape," she stammered, trying to look as if she knew exactly where she was going and why. "I was just...um...well, actually I was—" Now she knew why Snape always scared Neville Longbottom. Those piercing black eyes riveted the trembling slip of a girl with terror. Alas, if only her brave Harry were there. He, Peg felt sure, could stop her malicious head of house from uttering the cutting words she felt sure would descend on her any second.

She wasn't wrong. "Good morning, Miss Topper," Snape sneered, his tone of voice indicating that he meant it about as much as Ron Weasley liked to read books. "And pray tell, what are you doing roaming the corridors so early in the morning...in your teddy bear pajamas?" Somehow, Peg didn't think he'd be exactly dripping with sympathy over her predicament, especially considering the pajamas. Darn, I should have just settled for not trying to do my hair perfectly for once.

"Well, I, I, I was just t-trying to f-find the sh-shower, sir," Peg quavered, using her best I'm-not-scared-of-you voice. Snape's brows lowered farther than she would have thought possible as he stood towering over her in all his greasy glory. Under the duress of the moment, Peg decided to forget the brave, independent heroine act and go back to the large, frightened baby blues shtick. She shrank against the wall, staring up at Snape and generally looking pitiful. Little did she know that Snape was so cold-hearted that even the Flirtatiously Frightened Mary Sue Look had absolutely no effect on him. In fact, for some reason it only seemed to annoy him more.

"You are supposed," Snape ground out, every word a tightly controlled effort, "to bathe in the _evening!"_ Peg blinked.

"But sir," she said quite respectfully but bravely nonetheless, "in America we—" Her effort to explain was cut short by yet another rush of anger.

Snape's voice lowered dangerously and he bent very close, his hawklike features looming only a foot away from Peg's dainty, perfectly molded nose. "Miss Topper, I do not know what you may have been accustomed to in America, but I would suggest that you become unaccustomed to it very quickly. Do you catch my drift?"

There was nothing for Peg to do but nod submissively and wait to see what he would say next. Considering who she was dealing with, she wouldn't put it past him to take points off his own house just because he didn't like her. Not that the thought of Slytherin losing points disturbed her, but the last thing she needed was to have her classmates hate her any more than they already did.

To her great relief, Snape seemed to be finished with his tirade and turned away in disgust. Before he reached the archway, he called venomously over his shoulder, "Don't be late to breakfast!" He swept around the corner, leaving Peg weak-kneed and shaking.

After a few seconds, Peg pulled herself together like the strong, intelligent heroine that she was and decided it would probably be safer just to go to breakfast and save the shower for later. At this point she realized that she was still wearing her pink teddy bear pajamas and this was most likely not considered appropriate attire for breakfast at Hogwarts. She would have to change first, and that meant going back to the common room. Peg's stomach contracted in dread at the thought of facing Pansy Parkinson two times in one morning, but her common sense, such as it was, told her it had to be done. Bravely, Peg marched back the way she had come and—

Realized that she wasn't quite sure how to get back to the common room. This is pathetic, Peg told herself sternly. Not only do you not have the guts to stand up to Snape, you can't even find your way back to your own common room! Confused by the unchanging stone walls, she spun around, looking for a familiar landmark.

It's the Slytherins' fault, she told herself after a few more minutes of wandering aimlessly and, as far as she could tell, getting no closer to where she wanted to be. If they can't find someplace to live that isn't a dungeon, they shouldn't expect people to go around being on time for breakfast. They'll just have to get used to me getting lost every day.

A frightening thought occurred to Peg suddenly. If she couldn't find the common room, she couldn't change, which meant...no breakfast. O terrible spectre of doom! Peg felt a sudden urge to drop to her knees and cry out in despair, but she resisted it firmly. So she couldn't find the common room. She'd change in...a classroom!

Her eyes fastened on an open door only a few yards away. Cautiously, she edged toward it and peered around the doorway. Empty. Thanking her lucky stars for finally giving her a bit of help, Peg scurried into the room before somebody else could swoop by and yell at her for being an American.

Ten minutes later, Peg was dressed and ready to face the world in general and Harry in particular. Having arranged her robes so that they fitted as tightly as possible, she strode boldly out of the classroom and down the corridor.

At this point, she remembered the problem that had tormented her so much already this morning—she really had no earthly idea where she was going. Somehow Peg had assumed that being magical, Hogwarts would just sort of point new students in the right direction, rearrange corridors for their benefit, that sort of thing. No such luck. If the old castle was in fact doing anything at all in the way of shifting magically, it was definitely leading her in circles. Apparently, even the school building itself hated her.

Really, Peg thought, this was just not her morning. First Pansy Parkinson, then Professor Snape. What was next, Peeves?

It is remarkable how, in certain cases, otherwise useless idiomatic expressions can perfectly fit the circumstances. In this instance, the uncannily appropriate phrase was, "Speak of the devil and you see his horns." For indeed, no sooner had Peg formed this pessimistic thought in her pretty little head than who should come bouncing around the corner but the resident poltergeist himself.

"Ah-HAH!" Peeves cried, delighted at finding a victim so early in the morning. Gleefully, he peered at her with his little wicked eyes. Peg blanched in fear and repulsion as she drew her robes even more closely about herself, quite a feat considering their original fit. "And just what is our little new student doing wandering around the dungeons at this time of morning? It's BREAKFAST time!" he crowed in evil triumph. "Time for all _good_ little boys and girls to be gobbling down their lumpy, disgusting porridge!"

Peg shuddered at the thought. At home in America she had always had perfectly toasted Pop-Tarts. But somehow she guessed that life at Hogwarts wouldn't be quite like anything she'd been used to. After all, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out with all the hints people had been dropping to that effect all morning.

She realized that she had to make a choice at this point. Should she tell Peeves she was lost and ask for directions at the risk of being ridiculed and pelted with sharp objects or should she soldier on bravely as Harry would in her place? What a dilemma!

"Peeves," she whimpered pitifully, "I'm lost. I tried and tried and tried and tried and..." Peg was going into broken record mode, so Peeves was ever so reluctantly obliged to snap her out of it. Making himself invisible, he floated overhead and sneaked up behind her...

"BOO!" Peeves yelled in sheer delight, swooping out of nowhere and frightening Peg out of such wits as she possessed, which really wasn't saying much. She screamed shrilly as only Mary Sues can, sending the poltergeist into gales of laughter. Chuckling evilly as always, he disappeared again to nab some chalk from the closest classroom.

Chalk was Peeves' favorite weapon. So simple, yet so versatile...it could be dropped in a heap on someone's head, used to scrawl rude messages on the back of their robes when they weren't looking, shoved up people's noses...why, there was no end to the possibilities! With this happy thought in mind, he scooped up about five pieces some careless teacher had forgotten to hide from him and floated out as quickly as he had come, still snickering to himself.

Now, what should he do with this particular batch of chalk? In this case, his victim probably didn't need much prompting to be scared silly, so the best course was probably dropping the stuff on her head without warning and laughing evilly while she tried to fish it out of her hair. Yes, that should work just fine...

Still invisible, Peeves drifted up behind Peg, who was now marching determinedly down the hallway and pretending she knew where she was going. With an earsplitting shriek of triumph, he deposited his load of chalk directly on top of her tender little blonde head, provoking another scream of surprised terror.

This, while giving him much personal satisfaction, was probably not the smartest thing he could have done. After all, if he had read his _Official Handbook for Poltergeists, Boggarts, and Other Annoying Demon-Type Creatures,_ he would have known that otherwise weak and helpless teenage girls can only be pushed so far before the inner tigress takes control. At that point, anyone nearby had better take cover, preferably behind a six-foot-thick brick wall.

Most unfortunately for Peeves, no such thing was nearby to cower behind and he was forced to face the furious onslaught that followed his ill-fated prank. _"You...you...!" _shrieked Peg incoherently, stabbing a finger at him as she advanced on the poltergeist. Peeves backed away with a weak smile.

"I...HAVE...HAD...ENOUGH...OF...THIS!"she continued menacingly, striding toward him, perfectly manicured hands stretching out as if ready and willing to tear him limb from limb. Her blue eyes flashed with a rage that not even the bravest wizard could withstand, much less a miserable coward like Peeves.

Needless to say, he ran, Peg pursuing him with speed born of anger. Also needless to say, after fifty yards or so he realized what an idiot he was and disappeared abruptly with a pop. Peg stopped in disappointment and some confusion. She was somewhat deflated at being deprived of her fresh meat, having forgotten for the moment that Peeves didn't have flesh _per se_.

Then she suddenly uttered a little shriek, remembering that breakfast was probably in full swing by now. What should she do? Wait...what was that? Why, it looked like the flight of steps that led up to the entrance to the Great Hall! Breaking into a grin and feeling much better for the scaring of Peeves, Peg ran toward the stairs and took them two at a time.

A/N: I think I laid on the helpless blonde stuff a few layers too thick, but shrug that's the price of parody. If you want exaggeration, you've come to the right story! Hopefully updates will be quicker in the future, but I'm working on six or seven posted stories and about the same number of unposted ones, which should soon become posted. Perhaps you can find it in your heart to forgive me for the delays if you have any interest whatsoever in Roger Zelazny, J.R.R. Tolkien, K.A. Applegate, or Isaac Asimov. And I know you folks are interested in Harry Potter, so pleeeeeeaaaaase feel very free to review my other stories as much as you want! Also, I need help for a Scout project I'm doing. It involves collecting common abbreviations or terms used on that new users might not know or might be too lazy to figure out, so include some in your extremely long, favorable reviews on all my stories! Coming Soon: Breakfast With Slytherins.


	3. Breakfast With Slytherins

Disclaimer: Much to the dismay of Peg Topper and many, many others, Harry Potter is the sole property of J.K. Rowling, who holds the copyright thereto.

A/N: Sorry it's taking so long to update this story, but I'll try to be quicker about it in the future.  This story doesn't seem to attract many readers—yet.  I'm hoping that will change as it gets longer.  I think that Peg is actually a pretty likeable character for being so clichéd, which is why this isn't one of those parodies where she'll be ripped limb from limb by Fluffy or the Whomping Willow or any other potentially dangerous object.  I'll just stick with minor mishaps.

Siri: Hmm...you asked for a pie in the face?  (Peg's, not yours, of course...) You know, just for you I might be able to manage that.  I think a food fight in one of the later chapters would fit well with the established theme of the story so far, don't you?  Heh heh heh...

A: Come on, a real long review, please?  None of this "lololololololololol" stuff.  And look, I updated something!  Admittedly not what you wanted me to update, but I was almost done with this chapter anyway.  Be glad I got anything done with those insane geometry projects to deal with.  (Don't worry, folks, she's a friend.  I can insult her without fear of flames.)

kippinator: Glad you're enjoying it.  I am too—I love tormenting Peg.  By the way, I notice you haven't reviewed "Sirius on the Rum" for a chapter or two.  Please?  Boy, I feel desperate, begging for reviews...But I should update "Middle-earth at Hogwarts" soon—without overuse of "horror" this time.  J

Mrs. Greenleaf: I think my friend A is jealous of your name—she sees it on my review pages and drools with envy.  Thanks for your great reviews!

Clayin: Yeah, I thought putting her in Slytherin might be a bit of an original touch.  She and Snape get along so well, don't they?  You get to see a bit more Peg/Harry interaction in this chapter, don't worry...

Breakfast With Slytherins

As she climbed the stairs to the Great Hall, Peg Topper thought she would burst with relief at finally having arrived for breakfast after her great ordeal.  So far, her first morning at her new school had not gone as well as hoped, but she fully expected mealtime to be much better.  Why, perhaps she could catch a glimpse of her beloved Harry—or, better yet, actually catch his eye and immediately entrance him with her beauty and charm!

Peg was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she failed to pay attention to what her feet were doing.  As a result, she also failed to notice the slight unevenness of the top step and fell flat on her face in front of the whole school.  This jolted her rudely out of her reverie as well as messing up her blond hair, which she had painstakingly arranged as best she could under the circumstances.  Lying facedown on the floor of the Great Hall, Peg could hear the wave of laughter making its way through the students as heads turned in her direction.  It was then that she noticed the only redeeming feature of this debacle.

Harry Potter was looking at her.

Suddenly, the situation seemed much better than it had mere seconds before.  Surely Peg could withstand any humiliation if it meant getting the attention of her one true love!  Now he would begin to see how wrong he had been to like Cho earlier.  Now he would begin to realize that she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen and he simply must get to know her better…

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared pityingly at the new girl.  What was her name—Pam?  No, Peg, that was it.  "Poor thing," Hermione murmured to the boys, watching as Peg picked herself up and headed for the Slytherin table.  Apparently, she hadn't quite gotten the hang of it yet, because she was making her way directly toward the Hufflepuffs.

"Wonder why she's here, anyway," Harry mused, watching her with interest.  It wasn't every day they got a klutzy American exchange student, after all.  Then he saw something that froze the blood in his veins and left him inwardly gibbering with terror.  As the girl finally realized she was at the wrong table and went over to join the Slytherins, she looked directly at Harry for a moment and he could have sworn he saw her smile coyly and bat her eyelashes.  Oh, horrors…not another crush.  It had taken long enough to get rid of Ginny…

Peg was very pleased with the impression she had made.  Certainly falling down was a rather painful way to attract someone's attention, but it invariably worked, as it most certainly had in this case.  And although she hadn't really enjoyed being told in no uncertain terms to get the heck away from the Hufflepuffs and go to the Slytherin table where she belonged, it had provided her with an extra opportunity to steal a glance at Harry.  Why, when she smiled at him she could have sworn she saw his eyes widen in shock that such a beautiful girl would notice him!

[Well, get used to it, Harrykins,] she thought, sitting down to finally eat some breakfast.  [Where have you been all my life?]  There...that was a good line to start their first conversation with.  Although she really felt as though she knew him already, he might need more time to adjust to his good fortune, so it was better to start slow.

"So you finally got here, did you?"  The voice jolted her out of her reverie and back to the present.  Looking for the speaker, Peg saw Draco Malfoy sitting directly across from her.  His blond hair was, as usual, perfectly combed back, causing sixth-year girls all over the room to swoon whenever they looked over at the Slytherin table, partly from his amazing good looks and partly from Crabbe and Goyle.

"Yeah," she said tiredly, not really caring anymore that he was Harry's worst enemy at school.  "It's amazing how many corridors there are down there."

Malfoy laughed, not entirely unkindly.  "Got lost, huh?  It happens to everyone.  Here."  He shoved a nearby plate of toast at her along with some jam.  Peg accepted them gratefully, thinking that Malfoy's looks were definitely not bad.  In fact, if she wasn't totally focused on Harry...But no, that way lay sacrilege.  She forced her thoughts away from Malfoy and back to the boy at the Gryffindor table.

As she began to butter her toast, Malfoy said, "So you're American, huh?"  Peg looked up, somewhat apprehensive at the prospect of yet another tirade on the subject, but he didn't sound angry, just interested.  "Why'd you transfer anyway?  Seems like you went to a lot of trouble for nothing."

[Oh, no, not nothing,] Peg thought to herself with satisfaction.  Not that she had any interest in school whatsoever, but going across the Atlantic had been more than worth it to be in the same school with the legendary Harry Potter!  Just to think of his unruly black hair, his deep and mysterious green eyes, his adorably jagged scar filled her with a happiness that words could not express...And now he was to be all hers, and they would marry and live happily ever after in a beautiful little cottage by the sea.

Sighing with bliss at her plans for the future, Peg absentmindedly took a bite of her bread.  Just as soon as she got her schedule, she would be able to see what classes she had with the Gryffindors and plan her day accordingly.  After all, it wouldn't do to show up for a class with Harry with her hair disheveled or, worse, smelling like some horrible potion!

As she meditated on how best to enter said class—cool, collected, and on time or fashionably late—she became aware of a piece of paper lying on the table in front of her.  With a cry of excitement, she snatched it up to see what her schedule was.

Oh, joy...right after lunch she had Potions with the Gryffindors!  Peg examined her schedule more closely.  No, not just Potions, but double Potions!  She was lost in delight.  Double Potions with Harry...From what she knew of Snape, she guessed he and the other Slytherins would make Harry's life during Potions absolutely miserable.  The thought of poor Harrykins needing comfort, maybe even a shoulder to cry on, made her smile anew.  

There she would be, sitting right next to him, and she would give him a sympathetic, concerned look and tell the others where to get off and he would suddenly realize that at least one Slytherin was a decent person.  "Oh, Peg," he would say huskily, his voice cracking adorably, "what would I do without you?"  And she would just smile at him adoringly and hold his hand and—

"Hey!  Hellooo..."  Malfoy was waving a hand in front of her face.  Once more, Peg jerked back to real life with a start, feeling like a complete idiot.  "I said, 'So what was your old school like?'"

She blinked, surprised by the question.  "Oh.  Well, actually I was home-schooled."  Peg knew that didn't sound nearly as glamorous as going to school in an old castle steeped in magical tradition, but Malfoy had caught her by surprise and she hadn't had time to make up something about a cool, ultramodern school with a laptop for every student and fluorescent lighting.

Nonetheless, he seemed as impressed as a Malfoy could be, which really wasn't saying much.  "So your mum and dad must be great teachers, then," he remarked, raising a blond eyebrow.  "Or did you take the Qwikspell course?"  At the expression on her face, he laughed again and took a bite of his toast.  "Joking, joking.  But seriously, how did your parents manage it?"

Peg felt her cheeks growing hot.  She had dreaded this...how to explain it so that she didn't sound like a total moron.  Taking a deep breath, she smiled as best she could and blurted very quickly, "My parents didn't teach me magic."

Malfoy leaned back in his chair, watching her skeptically.  "Then who did?"  Peg winced.

"Um...Well, I only started doing magic a few months ago," she muttered into her plate, embarrassed at having to admit it in front of a Slytherin.  At least Harry wasn't there to witness her humiliation—that would have been unbearable.  Having to admit in front of her soulmate that she had been, for all intents and purposes, a Squib until only weeks before...

Leaning forward, his toast forgotten, Malfoy said, "But that's supposed to be almost impossible!"  His eyes were wide.  "Every witch or wizard shows their magic by age eleven at latest!"  Peg nodded in gloomy agreement, wondering why she was cursed with being a freak.

"I guess I'm kind of a late bloomer," she offered, giving him a weak smile.  He didn't quite return it, his jaw being too busy hanging slack as he stared at her.  Somewhat nervously, Peg wiped jam off her fingers and waited for the blow to fall—just one morning at Hogwarts had already taught her to expect instant ostracism as the response to any deviation from the norm.

[Harry wouldn't shun me,] she thought fiercely, imagining his sensitive, caring nature.  [He knows what it's like to be different...]  The thought of being sympathetic and understanding toward poor Harry, who certainly had problems if anyone did, made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside...

"Wow," Malfoy murmured, shaking his head in disbelief.  "I mean, that's really..._sixth year?"_  Seemingly by force of habit, he reached for his goblet and took a sip of pumpkin juice, but his eyes remained fixed on her.  "That's unheard of!"  He stopped suddenly, frowning slightly at her.  "Just how old are you, anyway?" he asked a little suspiciously.

"Oh."  Peg blushed again, wishing people would just stop asking her questions and let her woo Harry in peace.  "Um, I'm, uh...really, I'm..."  She swallowed, then continued in an even lower voice.  "Thirteen."  If Malfoy wasn't already disgusted with her, this would surely be the last straw—who entered sixth year at Hogwarts at age thirteen?

"I...see," Malfoy said slowly, his blond eyebrows disappearing beneath a curl of his perfectly groomed hair.  "And just why—"

"I'm very mature for my age," she added hastily, not wanting him to think she was some stupid little brat who had bought her way into Hogwarts.  The fact that her parents were filthy rich had nothing to do with it!  "And my parents were the ones who wanted me in sixth year."  This was a bald-faced lie, as Peg had spent a total of two weeks wearing her parents down to the point at which they would consent to it, but she certainly didn't want to explain to Malfoy her reasons for wanting to get to know the sixth-years—one sixth-year in particular.

He said nothing for a few seconds, watching her as she nibbled at her toast.  When at last he spoke, he said only, "Oookay."  Peg waited for him to go on, but nothing more was forthcoming, so she turned back to her breakfast with a small sigh.  Just one more person who thought she was either crazy or brainless or both...

Peg tried to eat, but she was so preoccupied with her steadily declining chances for happiness at Hogwarts that she found it hard to force anything down.  Absentmindedly, she took a swig of pumpkin juice—and quite suddenly, all other thoughts and worries were driven forcibly out of her mind.  Choking and spluttering, she dropped the goblet, spilling juice all over the tablecloth in her agony.

As her mind cleared and her coughing subsided, Peg stared from the now-empty goblet to the wide-eyed faces surrounding her.  Dimly, she realized that everyone in the Great Hall was staring at her, motionless and silent.  Hastily, she reached for her napkin and wiped the pumpkin juice off her robes as best she could, still shuddering from the shock.  Last night at the feast she hadn't really been aware of anything she had eaten—she had been too excited for that.  However, now that she had consciously tasted the stuff—

Peg shuddered again, still tasting the sweetness of the juice.  Whoever would have thought that pumpkin juice could be so terrible?  Everyone else at Hogwarts seemed to love it, but she supposed that was a matter of taste.  Although how anyone as all-around neat and enlightened as Harry could like such a beverage was beyond even her great mind...

"Hey."  Jumping for the third time in twenty minutes, Peg glanced up at Malfoy.  He was now glaring fiercely around the hall, and most of the school very suddenly lost interest in Peg and her predicament.  "Don't feel bad," he continued.  "First day's always the hardest, eh?"  He smiled at her bracingly.  "It'll be all right."  Peg nodded glumly, more to escape his notice than because she actually agreed with him.

Looking down at the table again, Peg saw her beloved schedule, almost forgotten in the embarrassment of the pumpkin juice fiasco.  The column labeled "Monday" caught her eye, and she gasped in shock.  The first entry in the column read "9:00—Transfiguration".

Malfoy looked up.  "What is it?" he asked, peering at her in concern.  Her mouth working as she struggled to speak, Peg pointed to her schedule.  At last she managed to force words out through her suddenly dry mouth.

"Transfiguration—ten minutes," she whispered.  "And I don't know my way there and I won't be any good anyway and I'm so stupid and everyone hates me and I just know I'll get expelled—"  She broke off at the look on Malfoy's face.

"Nobody's going to expel you," he said shortly.  "And in case you've forgotten, we have all our classes together.  You'll walk with us until you know your way around, of course."

"Of course," Peg agreed, relieved that someone was helping her for a change.  _Us...?_  He must be referring to the two goons who seemed to follow him around wherever he went, but she felt she could stomach the company of Gab and Croyle or whatever their names were for a few hours.  After all, Malfoy was the first person at this school so far who had been even remotely polite to her...

Getting up from the table, Malfoy beckoned to her.  "Come on, let's go.  We'd better get to class a little early since it's your first day."  He began striding toward the doors into the entrance hall, ignoring the stares from nearby tables, and Peg followed with a sigh.  The morning hadn't been exactly enjoyable, but at least she had one comfort—she would not be late to her first class with Maniac McGonagall.

A/N: Hmm...sounds like Malfoy's taken Peg under his wing.  Is love in the air?  If so, Peg doesn't know it yet.  I'm still trying to decide whether Harry will ever really notice her or not.  But I'll save that for another chapter.  For now, I need feedback.  Would you be interested in seeing me write a whole romance series?  Don't worry, all parodies...The series would be called "Robbing the Cradle" and would feature good companions to the ever-popular Hermione/Snape romance, such as Harry/Trelawney, McGonagall/Malfoy, Ginny/Filch, etc.  So...tell me whether you'd be interested in seeing me horribly parody romance stories (and by horribly I mean **_horribly_**).  And don't anybody dare steal my ideas!  Unfortunately, they've probably already been done anyway...Coming Fairly Soon (Hopefully): Chapter Four.


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